


A Salve for the Wound

by phoenixsoul13



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mentioned Canonical Character Death, Post All That Remains, Pre-Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), slightly canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixsoul13/pseuds/phoenixsoul13
Summary: It wasn’t until she’d started opening Fenris’s front door that she realized where her steps had taken her.
Kudos: 3





	A Salve for the Wound

**Author's Note:**

> post All That Remains fic from the pov of my 2nd, non-champion, Hawke.

The stone streets of Hightown were hard against her feet, which were bare since she’d stormed thoughtlessly out of the Amell manor. Alissa refused to let her help, had refused Uncle Gamlen’s offer of help, and she couldn’t stand to be there while ae took care of things without considering that they  **both** needed something to do in the face of grief. They were Hawkes.

It wasn’t until she’d started opening Fenris’s front door that she realized where her steps had taken her. It  _ was _ where she spent a lot of her time lately; she’d offered to teach him how to read.

Belatedly, Rosalie knocked on the door as she entered the manor to signify she was a friendly visitor. The thought that she was intruding on his time surfaced, but she wouldn’t demand his presence. She just... needed to be somewhere that wasn’t home.

Mother had gone missing. Alissa had gone looking after her, like the protector of the family that she claimed to be. Rosalie had stayed home in case Mother came back, but she had tried not to worry. Ae had promised to bring Mother home.

But ae had not brought Mother home. Because Mother was dead.  _ Murdered _ .

Rosalie leaned back against the front door to close it and inhaled deeply, relishing the lack of flowery scents that reminded her of Mother’s perfume. For the first time in hours, she actually felt like she could breathe. The rugs in the main hall were kinder on her feet than the stones of Hightown. The shadows felt far safer than the revealing light of Mother’s lamps. In here, the world wasn’t ending; everything was... calm. There was nothing to indicate anything terrible had happened today.

Nothing except for her sibling’s words ringing in her ears:  _ ‘Mother is dead.’ _

She remembered how her mother had looked this morning, smiling as she arranged lilies in a vase, humming to herself. The last time Rosalie would see her.

A sob worked its way out of her throat, despite her attempts to muffle it. No no no, she couldn’t break down yet. She had to see if Fenris was here, to make sure she wasn’t intruding. But her grief was impatient, and the next thing she knew, she was curled up against the front door, sobbing, trying to hide tears in her skirts.

“Rosalie?”

Fenris. He must have heard her.  _ Damn. Take a breath. Push down the grief.  _ She shouldn’t make this his problem. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake.

She tried to wipe away the tears and get her breathing under control before she raised her head. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to  _ say _ . How could she explain that her mother was-

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of something landing on the rugs of the main hall. Before she could realize it, Fenris had _ jumped off the upper landing _ and was kneeling in front of her, eyes examining her, clearly looking for an injury or wound. He must have realized she was... not fine, but uninjured, because he relaxed, if only fractionally. “What happened?”

The thought of voicing the awful truth momentarily stole Rosalie’s breath. Where would she even start? The flowers? The necromancer? Mother going missing? Did she even have the strength?

Fenris looked increasingly concerned the longer she went without speaking, so she reached out a hand, hoping he would realize what she was asking. After a moment’s hesitation, he took her hand and moved to sit next to her.

Eventually, haltingly, she was able to tell him the story, starting with them learning Mother was missing, ending with Alissa arriving home covered in blood and demonic ichor. Without Mother.

As she finished, Fenris squeezed her hand with a sorrowful expression. “Rosalie, I am so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do...”

Those words broke something and Rosalie found herself sobbing again. Maker, why couldn’t she maintain her composure? She shouldn’t be making this Fenris’s problem. But she couldn’t help but remember her sibling’s angry expression when ae relayed what had occurred, aer refusal to let Rosalie help with anything, or even just  _ stop and talk about it _ , and the grief welled up fresh all over again.

Eventually,  _ eventually _ , she was able to stop crying long enough to say the words, “Thank you, Fenris.”

Ultimately, it was probably for the best that she had made her way here. Being alone at home -because she would have been, regardless of Alissa being home or not- was not a way she had ever had to deal with grief before.

Fenris was still holding her hand. It was warm, far warmer than she felt. A thought occurred to her. It was a selfish thing to ask, but, “…would it be all right if I asked you to hold me?”

He glanced at her and she couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. Why had she asked? She was a grown woman, not a four year old in need of being comforted through a thunderstorm. But to her surprise, he nodded.

As Rosalie curled up on Fenris’s lap, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to be careful around his lyrium marks, she swore she would find some way to thank him for helping her. It may only be a salve for the wound deep in her soul, but for now, it was more than enough.


End file.
